


Blood Sport

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, But you are also a sick fuck, Choking, Creampie, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Hickeys, Lemons, M/M, Micah is a sick fuck, Rough Sex, Sadism, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: You beating Micah to an inch of his life has done nothing but give in a hard-on. Maybe you should make use of this?First chapter is female reader, second is male reader.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	1. Female Version

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty sinful, sorry about that. 
> 
> Twitter and Tumblr are @MALLR4TS

You hated him. You despised him. You loathed him. 

This man, this pathetic excuse for a man. He was the worst person you'd ever met, the worst thing God had put upon this Earth. 

This past week he'd been especially nasty to you. Normally, the two of you would rarely interact. When you first joined the gang he tried it on with you a few times; the usual cheeky pickup line followed by a groan when you rejected him. The girls had warned you about him after your first interaction and ensured you that anyone would come to your need if he ever took things to far. You knew the camp was safe but continued to question why this rat slept amongst them. 

On this pleasant day, he had made racist remarks to both Charles and Lenny, made a snide remark to Grimshaw, had almost gotten into a fight with Arthur, and had tripped over Uncle whilst he was sleeping and blamed it on him. Wonderful. 

Thankfully, the day was almost over. Well, for most of the gang it was. You were put on guard duty for a good few hours into the night. No bother.  
Horseshoe Overlook was actually a quiet location and you'd never seen or heard anyone try and get close to the camp, despite it being so close to the main road. 

So there you were, gun in hand as you strolled around the forest, a few hours into your shift. The night had been peaceful but of course, someone was on their way over to ruin it.  
You heard rustling coming from behind you and turned around just in time to see that distinct white hat figure stumbling about. Sigh. 

"There you are," Micah slurred as he approached you, resting his weight against the tree as he put his hands on his gunbelt, trying to look cool. 

"Here I am," you sighed.

"Oh, don't be like that. I ain't here to annoy you," Micah rolled his eyes.

"What are you here for then?" A question that you probably shouldn't have asked.

"You know, darlin'. I could do with your help." 

"I ain't your darlin'. And what do you need? You want me to go push you off that cliff?" you snapped.

"Easy there," Micah raised his hands, laughing slightly. He slowly walked towards you, his hands still raised. "How about I show you what I need help with, huh?" 

"Just tell me. I ain't here to play games." You try and push him away from you with the bottom of your gun, but he pushes it aside and steps forward.

"Now now. Just c'mere," Micah says as he puts a hand on your waist. 

Nope.

You punch him in the stomach with the bottom of your gun, shoving him backward. He manages to remain standing, but was hunched over.

"Eager there, ain't you?" Micah says as he straightened himself. 

"I ain't afraid to beat you to an inch of your life," you reply, standing upright. 

"Do it then!" 

"What?" He caught you off guard.

"Go on, do it! I know you hate me. Why not take out all that anger, huh? Enjoy the satisfaction of seeing me walk around for the next few weeks all roughed up, knowing you did it," Micah approaches you again. He tries to grab you but you manage to catch his wrist in time, holding it firmly. He doesn't pull away. 

"Why are you so eager?" 

"I wanna see what you're made of. I wanna see if a woman really can fight." That comment set you off. You let go of his wrist, dropped the gun to the floor, and planted a hard punch across his face.

Micah fell back to the ground with a large thud. He lies there for a second, one of his hands coming up to wipe at his face. Eventually, he looks up at you, still laying on the floor, his hat a few inches from him. 

"Is that it?" Micah laughs. Ugh. 

"I ain't here to.. do whatever this is," you reply as you begin to walk off. Micah grabs a hold of your ankle, making your blood boil.

"C'mon, I'm all defenseless. Just let all that anger out," he says as he pulls at your ankle. 

"Fine!" You snap. 

As quick as lightning, you kneel over him, your knees on either side of his hips. You grab him by the scruff of his shirt and start laying punches on him like there's no tomorrow. Micah takes it. You can hear him grunting with every hit you land, yet he doesn't fight back. His arms remain sprawled out by his sides, legs underneath you, making no effort to stop this.

What is with this man?! Why wasn't he fighting back?

There's blood everywhere, all over your shirt, fist, and his face. You stop, catching your breath. He was right, it felt amazing to let out all that anger.  
Micah's eyes are shut, one of them already swollen up, his nose and mouth covered in blood. He's panting too but somehow still conscious. Finally, he speaks.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Micah asks you as he opens his eyes. 

"Feels good beatin' up a piece of shit like you, yeah," you admit. 

"I ain't on about that," Micah replies. Micah rolls his hips, rubbing a rock-solid boner against your crotch. You hadn't realized that during your fight you'd let yourself sit on his lap, too distracted by smashing his skull in. 

"Eugh!" You yelp. You let go of his shirt, his head thudding back onto the ground. 

Micah starts to laugh. He lets out that long, annoying laugh. The one he does when he knows he's right. It's so fake, it's sickly. 

"You ain't moved off me tho, darlin'." He was right. You'd made no attempt to roll off him, no attempt to move your crotch away from his. "You enjoy this? You enjoy beatin' up big bad Micah Bell? Bet you're wetter than a lake." 

He was right. He was so right.

You weren't sure if this was a rush of adrenaline or a sick fetish you'd kept locked away for years, but he was damn right. You're not sure what to respond so you simply punch him again.

He laughs.

"You get off on this?" you snap at him, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt again.

"Yep," he blankly states.

Your eyes widen. He's making direct eye contact with you now, your face is red and inches away from his. He stank of whiskey and blood, his breathing still heavy. 

"Can't help nature," Micah eventually states, breaking the silence. 

You pause for a moment, taking it all in. You could either get up and walk away, hoping this would never occur or be mentioned, though you doubted that. Or use him, let your anger out whilst you finally get some cock. It had been months since you'd been laid and you were aching to get off. Maybe he'd noticed this? Maybe he'd peeked on you masturbating far too often?  
The second option sounded best; it was a win-win. Beat the fuck outta Micah whilst you use him for sexual pleasure, then threaten him and hope he never tells a soul about this. 

"Go on, what you gonna pick, dollface? I can see you workin' this all out," Micah says, cutting off your train of thought. 

"Alright, Mister Bell. You're gonna take this, you ain't gonna fight back. I'm gonna use you to get myself off. I'm gonna continue to beat the everloving fuck outta you. Then you're never gonna tell nobody about this. Alright?" 

Micah doesn't reply, he just starts laughing again. Ugh! Of course, you punch him, again and again but he continues to laugh. So you give up and start choking him. He's caught off guard. His eyes widen as you wrap your hand around his throat, avoiding his windpipe and pushing on those soft spots under his jawline. 

He's looking at you through bruised half-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly parted. His breathing is heavy, yet he's conscious enough to grasp your hips and start grinding up against you. What a sick man.  
You let go of his throat when you start to see his eyes shutting. He gasps for breath, smiling and grinding harder against you. 

"I knew you were sick. I knew I was gonna have to push all your buttons in order to get something off you," Micah laughs. You punch him again.

"This a game for you?" 

"Yes." 

"Fine. Well, it's my turn to play now. Get your cock out and don't try anything," you order as you shuffle off him. You hear him chuckle as he begins to undo his belt. 

You stand up to take off your (pants/skirt), leaving your undergarments around one ankle. You watch as Micah pulls out his cock and begins to stroke it, watching you undress.  
He's solid, his cock covered in veins and red at the tip. He's an average length and very girthy. Perfect.  
You climb on top of him, using your own spit to slick up your already wet pussy, and swiftly slide yourself down on him. 

You can't help but moan as he stretches you out. You spend a moment sat with his dick fully inside of you, letting yourself get used to it. 

"Too big for you?" Micah teases. It gains him another punch across the jaw. That made his cock twitch. He chuckles for a moment but stops and rolls his head back the moment you start riding him. 

You soon find a good pace, one of your hands gripping onto his shirt, the other placed beside his head. His eyes are shut and he's louder than you expected.  
He's moaning. Full-on moaning. He's loving every second of this. Loving the pleasure and the pain.  
His hands grip at your hips, encouraging you to bounce faster on him. 

Micah lets out a particularly loud moan after you slam into him. You slap him this time, then firmly grasp at his throat.

"You wanna be caught?" you scold him. He doesn't respond verbally, but he grins. "God, you're so sick." 

Micah attempts to laugh but you grip his throat tighter, making him yelp instead. He shuts his eyes and relaxes, enjoying that feeling of blood rushing around his brain as you choke him.

He tightens his grip on your waist, stopping you from riding him. He props his knees up, pushing you forward and begins bucking into you. Hard. His motion catches you off guard, making you yelp out in pleasure. 

"Atta girl," he praises you once your hand comes off his throat to grip at the ground, keeping yourself somewhat upright. 

One of his hands is around your waist, the other reaching down to firmly grasp at your ass, gripping onto it for dear life. It was only fair that he left some marks on you too. 

He's fucking you good, far too good. You hate to admit it, but if you knew he was this good then you would have come onto him a long time ago.  
Your moans are getting ridiculously loud; Micah has quietened down, only letting out a few grunts, too focused on abusing your hole.

You had to be quiet. You really REALLY did not want to be found like this.  
Fucking Micah was already sinful, but fucking Micah when he's bruised and covered in his own blood? How were you meant to explain that? 

You lay your chest against his, gripping his jaw as you tilt his head to the side. You bite down. Hard. Leaving your marks all over him.  
He's moaning again, a lot quieter this time. 

"Claimin' me as your own, hm? Didn't know you wanted me that bad," Micah teases.

You didn't. You did not want this man. But the way he fucked you was so exciting, so feral. You knew you were going to get off to this in the future. You knew you'd probably have Micah come find you whenever he's horny, and you knew that you'd probably go looking for him whenever you just wanted to let off some steam.  
It was a mutual agreement and you were surprisingly fine with it. 

"Go on, cover me. I want eeeeeveryone in the camp to be questioning why I'm beat up but covered in hickeys," he grins, laughing, moving his neck across and encouraging you. 

So you do. 

Micah looks worse than he's ever been. The side of his neck is purple, bite marks all over it. His nose is probably broken, his eyes' swollen, and there's damp blood all over his beard and parts of his shirt. Yet he continues to laugh and grin, encouraging you in between thrusts.

"Good girl. You're loving this, ain'tcha?" 

You remain silent, but let out a yelp against his skin as he slams his cock harder than usual into you. Your pussy begins to ache, well used. You were going to be sore for the next few days. 

"I'm close, darlin'. God, I can't wait to fill that tight pussy up with my cum."

"Is that so?" you ask as you prop yourself back up over him, your hands on either side of his head. You give him a swift slap to the cheek, your hand stinging afterward. 

"Still got some life in ya? Go on, let it allll out. Why don-" You cut him off, pressing your hand firmly on his throat.

"Shut up and fuck me. God, you really do love the sound of your own voice," you order. Micah obliges and picks up his pace. You can tell he's close, and so are you. 

Finally, he finishes his high, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he spills inside of you. You rub at your clit, following shortly after. You clench around his cock, making him yelp as you milk him for all he's worth.  
The two of you are panting, sweaty, bloody messes. Eventually, you roll off him, lying beside him as you catch your breath.

Micah is the first to move. He rolls onto his side and begins to kiss your kneck, his hand reaching down to rub your over-stimulated clit. You don't react at first, too worn out and sadly still loving the attention.  
He slips two fingers into you, catching you off guard as you let out a moan. You can feel his cum spilling out of you as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Love that feelin'," he says against your neck. Sicko. But you also enjoy it. 

Your eyes suddenly open as you feel him bite down on his neck.

"Stop!" you yelp. "You're gonna give me a hickey. I don't want people seein' that." 

And he somehow leaves one on you. Fuck. 

He's chuckling as he pulls his fingers out of you, still propped up on his arm beside you. 

"Everyones gonna know what's happened," he grins.

"They won't cause you said you ain't gonna tell anyone," you frown. 

"I ain't. I'm a man of my word. But as dumb as these people are, they can put two and two together. Especially with those bloody knuckles of yours."

He was right. You didn't realize how bloody your knuckles were. They were blood red, yet you weren't sure if it was his blood, your blood, or just bruises starting to form. Either way, it ached and there was no way you could hide this. And now you had a hickey to match, perfect!

That piece of shit. This is what he wanted.

You huffed, getting up to wipe yourself down and put your clothes back on. You rush, hearing Micah laugh as he does the same, slowly standing up.  
You begin to walk away but Micah grabs at your arm, spinning you around. 

"Where you goin' so fast?" 

"Away from you." 

"Why? We're matchin' now. Can't have you goin' anywhere without me." What a nightmare that'd be. 

"This is a sexual agreement, Micah. I ain't your sweetheart," you reply as you pull away from his grasp. 

"Oh? So you do wanna fuck me again?" 

"...Yes."


	2. Male Version

You hated him. You despised him. You loathed him. 

This man, this pathetic excuse for a man. He was the worst person you'd ever met, the worst thing God had put upon this Earth. 

This past week he'd been especially nasty to you. Normally, the two of you would rarely interact. When you first joined the gang he tried it on with you a few times; the usual cheeky pickup line followed by a groan when you rejected him. The girls had warned you about him after your first interaction, concerned that he was just trying to tempt you onto him so he could mock you for your sexuality. They then ensured you that anyone would come to your need if he ever took things too far. You knew the camp was safe but continued to question why this rat slept amongst them. 

On this pleasant day, he had made racist remarks to both Charles and Lenny, made a snide remark to Grimshaw, had almost gotten into a fight with Arthur, and had tripped over Uncle whilst he was sleeping and blamed it on him. Wonderful. 

Thankfully, the day was almost over. Well, for most of the gang it was. You were put on guard duty for a good few hours into the night. No bother.  
Horseshoe Overlook was actually a quiet location and you'd never seen or heard anyone try and get close to the camp, despite it being so close to the main road. 

So there you were, gun in hand as you strolled around the forest, a few hours into your shift. The night had been peaceful but of course, someone was on their way over to ruin it.  
You heard rustling coming from behind you and turned around just in time to see that distinct white hat figure stumbling about. Sigh. 

"There you are," Micah slurred as he approached you, resting his weight against the tree as he put his hands on his gunbelt, trying to look cool. 

"Here I am," you sighed.

"Oh, don't be like that. I ain't here to annoy you," Micah rolled his eyes.

"What are you here for then?" A question that you probably shouldn't have asked.

"You know, darlin'. I could do with your help." 

"I ain't your darlin'. And what do you need? You want me to go push you off that cliff?" you snapped.

"Easy there," Micah raised his hands, laughing slightly. He slowly walked towards you, his hands still raised. "How about I show you what I need help with, huh?" 

"Just tell me. I ain't here to play games." You try and push him away from you with the bottom of your gun, but he pushes it aside and steps forward.

"Now now. Just c'mere," Micah says as he puts a hand on your waist. 

Nope.

You punch him in the stomach with the bottom of your gun, shoving him backward. He manages to remain standing, but was hunched over.

"Eager there, ain't you?" Micah says as he straightened himself. 

"I ain't afraid to beat you to an inch of your life," you reply, standing upright. 

"Do it then!" 

"What?" He caught you off guard.

"Go on, do it! I know you hate me. Why not take out all that anger, huh? Enjoy the satisfaction of seeing me walk around for the next few weeks all roughed up, knowing you did it," Micah approaches you again. He tries to grab you but you manage to catch his wrist in time, holding it firmly. He doesn't pull away. 

"Why are you so eager?" 

"I wanna see what you're made of. I wanna see if men like you really can fight." That comment set you off. You let go of his wrist, dropped the gun to the floor, and planted a hard punch across his face.

Micah fell back to the ground with a large thud. He lies there for a second, one of his hands coming up to wipe at his face. Eventually, he looks up at you, still laying on the floor, his hat a few inches from him. 

"Is that it?" Micah laughs. Ugh. 

"I ain't here to.. do whatever this is," you reply as you begin to walk off. Micah grabs a hold of your ankle, making your blood boil.

"C'mon, I'm all defenseless. Just let all that anger out," he says as he pulls at your ankle. 

"Fine!" You snap. 

As quick as lightning, you kneel over him, your knees on either side of his hips. You grab him by the scruff of his shirt and start laying punches on him like there's no tomorrow. Micah takes it. You can hear him grunting with every hit you land, yet he doesn't fight back. His arms remain sprawled out by his sides, legs underneath you, making no effort to stop this.

What is with this man?! Why wasn't he fighting back?

There's blood everywhere, all over your shirt, fist, and his face. You stop, catching your breath. He was right, it felt amazing to let out all that anger.  
Micah's eyes are shut, one of them already swollen up, his nose and mouth covered in blood. He's panting too but somehow still conscious. Finally, he speaks.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Micah asks you as he opens his eyes. 

"Feels good beatin' up a piece of shit like you, yeah," you admit. 

"I ain't on about that," Micah replies. Micah rolls his hips, rubbing a rock-solid boner against your own. You hadn't realized that during your fight you'd let yourself sit on his lap, too distracted by smashing his skull in. Was it the friction that had made you hard? Or maybe the adrenaline? 

"Eugh!" You yelp. You let go of his shirt, his head thudding back onto the ground. 

Micah starts to laugh. He lets out that long, annoying laugh. The one he does when he knows he's right. It's so fake, it's sickly. 

"You ain't moved off me tho, darlin'." He was right. You'd made no attempt to roll off him, no attempt to move your crotch away from his. "You enjoy this? You enjoy beatin' up big bad Micah Bell? Bet you're harder than a rock." 

He was right. He was so right.

You weren't sure if this was a rush of adrenaline or a sick fetish you'd kept locked away for years, but he was damn right. You're not sure what to respond so you simply punch him again.

He laughs.

"You get off on this?" you snap at him, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt again.

"Yep," he blankly states.

Your eyes widen. He's making direct eye contact with you now, your face is red and inches away from his. He stank of whiskey and blood, his breathing still heavy. 

"Can't help nature," Micah eventually states, breaking the silence. 

You pause for a moment, taking it all in. You could either get up and walk away, hoping this would never occur or be mentioned, though you doubted that. Or use him, let your anger out whilst you finally get some cock. It had been months since you'd been laid and you were aching to get off. Maybe he'd noticed this? Maybe he'd peeked on you masturbating far too often?  
The second option sounded best; it was a win-win. Beat the fuck outta Micah whilst you use him for sexual pleasure, then threaten him and hope he never tells a soul about this. 

"Go on, what you gonna pick, sweetheart? I can see you workin' this all out," Micah says, cutting off your train of thought. 

"Alright, Mister Bell. You're gonna take this, you ain't gonna fight back. I'm gonna use you to get myself off. I'm gonna continue to beat the everloving fuck outta you. Then you're never gonna tell nobody about this. Alright?" 

Micah doesn't reply, he just starts laughing again. Ugh! Of course, you punch him, again and again but he continues to laugh. So you give up and start choking him. He's caught off guard. His eyes widen as you wrap your hand around his throat, avoiding his windpipe and pushing on those soft spots under his jawline. 

He's looking at you through bruised half-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly parted. His breathing is heavy, yet he's conscious enough to grasp your hips and start grinding up against you. What a sick man.  
You let go of his throat when you start to see his eyes shutting. He gasps for breath, smiling and grinding harder against you. 

"I knew you were sick. I knew I was gonna have to push all your buttons in order to get something off you," Micah laughs. You punch him again.

"This a game for you?" 

"Yes." 

"Fine. Well, it's my turn to play now. Get your cock out and don't try anything," you order as you shuffle off him. You hear him chuckle as he begins to undo his belt. 

You stand up to kick off one of your pant legs, leaving them and your undergarments around one ankle, one boot on the floor. You watch as Micah pulls out his cock and begins to stroke it, watching you undress.  
He's solid, his cock covered in veins and red at the tip. He's an average length and very girthy. Perfect.  
You climb on top of him. Thankfully and coincidentally, you had been playing with yourself earlier before going on guard duty, so you only needed a few moments and the small bottle of lube that you kept in your pocket for emergencies to get yourself ready. 

You finally slide down onto him, letting out a moan through gritted teeth as he stretches you. You spend a moment sitting with his dick fully inside of you, letting yourself get used to it. 

"Too big for you?" Micah teases. It gains him another punch across the jaw. That made his cock twitch. He chuckles for a moment but stops and rolls his head back the moment you start riding him. 

You soon find a good pace, one of your hands gripping onto his shirt, the other placed beside his head. His eyes are shut and he's louder than you expected.  
He's moaning. Full-on moaning. He's loving every second of this. Loving the pleasure and the pain.  
His hands grip at your hips, encouraging you to bounce faster on him. 

Micah lets out a particularly loud moan after you slam into him. You slap him this time, then firmly grasp at his throat.

"You wanna be caught?" you scold him. He doesn't respond verbally, but he grins. "God, you're so sick." 

Micah attempts to laugh but you grip his throat tighter, making him yelp instead. He shuts his eyes and relaxes, enjoying that feeling of blood rushing around his brain as you choke him.

He tightens his grip on your waist, stopping you from riding him. He props his knees up, pushing you forward and begins bucking into you. Hard. His motion catches you off guard, making you yelp out in pleasure. 

"Atta boy," he praises you once your hand comes off his throat to grip at the ground, keeping yourself somewhat upright. 

One of his hands is around your waist, the other reaching down to firmly grasp at your ass, gripping onto it for dear life. It was only fair that he left some marks on you too. 

He's fucking you good, far too good. You hate to admit it, but if you knew he was this good then you would have come onto him a long time ago.  
Your moans are getting ridiculously loud; Micah has quietened down, only letting out a few grunts, too focused on abusing your hole.

You had to be quiet. You really REALLY did not want to be found like this.  
Fucking Micah was already sinful, but fucking Micah when he's bruised and covered in his own blood? How were you meant to explain that? 

You lay your chest against his, gripping his jaw as you tilt his head to the side. You bite down. Hard. Leaving your marks all over him.  
He's moaning again, a lot quieter this time. 

"Claimin' me as your own, hm? Didn't know you wanted me that bad," Micah teases.

You didn't. You did not want this man, especially after the many comments he had made towards you and your sexuality. It's funny, isn't it? The homophobes are always the ones in denial.   
However, you knew you were going to get off to this in the future, the feral was Micah was fucking you. You knew you'd probably have Micah come find you whenever he's horny, and you knew that you'd probably go looking for him whenever you just wanted to let off some steam.  
It was a mutual agreement and you were surprisingly fine with it. 

"Go on, cover me. I want eeeeeveryone in the camp to be questioning why I'm beat up but covered in hickeys," he grins, laughing, moving his neck across and encouraging you. 

So you do. 

Micah looks worse than he's ever been. The side of his neck is purple, bite marks all over it. His nose is probably broken, his eye's swollen, and there's damp blood all over his beard and parts of his shirt. Yet he continues to laugh and grin, encouraging you in between thrusts.

"Good boy. You're loving this, ain'tcha?" 

You remain silent, but let out a yelp against his skin as he slams his cock harder than usual into you. Your hole begins to ache, well used. You were going to be sore for the next few days. 

"I'm close, darlin'. God, I can't wait to fill that ass up with my cum."

"Is that so?" you ask as you prop yourself back up over him, your hands on either side of his head. You give him a swift slap to the cheek, your hand stinging afterward. 

"Still got some life in ya? Go on, let it allll out. Why don-" You cut him off, pressing your hand firmly on his throat.

"Shut up and fuck me. God, you really do love the sound of your own voice," you order. Micah obliges and picks up his pace. You can tell he's close, and so are you. Your hand reaching down to tug at your own cock. 

Finally, he finishes his high, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he spills inside of you. You jerk yourself off, following shortly after, your cum spilling over his already ruined shirt. You clench around his cock, making him yelp as you milk him for all he's worth.  
The two of you are panting, sweaty, bloody messes. Eventually, you roll off him, lying beside him as you catch your breath.

Micah is the first to move. He rolls onto his side and begins to kiss your kneck, his hand reaching down to gently jerk your already over-stimulated cock. You don't react at first, too worn out and sadly still loving the attention.  
His hand moves down from your cock, two fingers slipping onto your abused hole, catching you off guard as you let out a moan. You can feel his cum spilling out of you as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Love that feelin'," he says against your neck. Sicko. But you also enjoy it. 

Your eyes suddenly open as you feel him bite down on his neck.

"Stop!" you yelp. "You're gonna give me a hickey. I don't want people seein' that." 

And he somehow leaves one on you. Fuck. 

He's chuckling as he pulls his fingers out of you, still propped up on his arm beside you. 

"Everyones gonna know what's happened," he grins.

"They won't cause you said you ain't gonna tell anyone," you frown. 

"I ain't. I'm a man of my word. But as dumb as these people are, they can put two and two together. Especially with those bloody knuckles of yours."

He was right. You didn't realize how bloody your knuckles were. They were blood red, yet you weren't sure if it was his blood, your blood, or just bruises starting to form. Either way, it ached and there was no way you could hide this. And now you had a hickey to match, perfect!

That piece of shit. This is what he wanted.

You huffed, getting up to wipe yourself down and put your clothes back on. You rush, hearing Micah laugh as he does the same, slowly standing up.  
You begin to walk away but Micah grabs at your arm, spinning you around. 

"Where you goin' so fast?" 

"Away from you." 

"Why? We're matchin' now. Can't have you goin' anywhere without me." What a nightmare that'd be. 

"This is a sexual agreement, Micah. I ain't your sweetheart," you reply as you pull away from his grasp. 

"Oh? So you do wanna fuck me again?" 

"...Yes."


End file.
